


Our Patience Wearing Thin, We Wired Our Hearts Shut

by prettyredfox



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But he's working on it, Gen, Graphic Description, Self-Harm, steve has a broken brain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyredfox/pseuds/prettyredfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a very patient man but after a bad day, both he and Tony exchange some harsh words before he takes off to find some solstice. What he finds instead (or what finds him) leaves him reeling and struggling for sanity. Steve/whump, graphic descriptions and slightly suicidal ponderings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Patience Wearing Thin, We Wired Our Hearts Shut

**Author's Note:**

> ^^No character deaths and no hook-ups in this one. Just some good old fashion Bromance and team bonding. Steve might be a little OC-probably a lot, actually- but he was super fun to write for even though I was forced to clean up my language.

~

Steve liked to believe he was a patient man. Not that that said much, everyone liked to believe things about themselves, but he did try. His friends had always told him he had the patience of a saint, so he liked to think they were right. But Tony Stark had a knack for wearing down even the most patient people. Steve and him had gotten closer though since the Chitauri attack, and by that Steve meant he didn’t let Tony’s snark and underhand comments bother him so much. They’d actually become something close to friends and Tony had been badgering him to move into the Tower for the last month or so. So far, he had refused but the man was steadily wearing Steve down and if putting up with that man’s stubborn nagging didn’t say he was a patient man, Steve didn’t know what would.

Today had not been his day for patience, he was ashamed to say.

Steve had come awake violently from one of his nightmares about the war to his phone blaring one of those newer rap songs Tony had set it up to play; he didn’t even want to know what some of the lyrics meant. Apparently the city was under siege by a colony of mutant fire ants, and didn’t that sound just lovely to deal with at three in the morning?

The bites hurt like you wouldn’t believe and swelled up, looking inflamed and angry. Steve had quite a few by this point, trying to keep as many away from Black Widow as possible. Natasha would not be happy to be covered in puss filled ant bites and if she wasn’t happy, no one was. So, Captain America was unfortunately not paying attention when Iron Man decided it was time to do his own thing and, long story short, caught Steve’s suit _ON FIRE_. Steve was in pain, exhausted, and frankly, just way past his limit for the day. He was not surprised by the fight he and Tony had following the ant invasion that took place once they got past medical and back to the Tower. (The ant bites were very painful but would eventually drain and heal on their own. Steve’s burn were minor though his uniform was sadly, destroyed.) It had to happen sometime, they hadn’t had a proper fight in a while.

Steve had not meant for it to go as far as it had though.

“You are so irresponsible, Tony! You put your teammates in danger! You don’t catch your friends on fire, genius!” He yelled and knew by the way Tony’s face tightened when he said ‘irresponsible’ that the man was insulted and about to get especially mean. He was not disappointed.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Rodgers! I wasn’t aware that you had any friends left alive!” And that one hurt. Not only because the man was bringing up the fact that all his friends were indeed deceased, but also because Steve had begun to think of Tony as his friend. He could see the rest of the team stiffen at the comment the same time Tony’s face paled and the man started to shake his head. “Steve-I didn’t, you know that-“

Steve was a patient man and he had meant to stay and listen, really he had. Because he knew now (like he hadn’t for the Chitauri attack) under the wave of hurt he felt, that Tony hadn’t really meant it. The man just said whatever popped into his head at the time; he didn’t have a filter when he was feeling defensive and Steve knew that now. But even as he tried to tell himself that, to stay and hear Tony _take it back, please,_ his legs were carrying him outside. All he heard was a great buzzing filling his head as he spilled out onto the sidewalk, his face hot and injuries stinging. It was well into the afternoon now, the battle with the ants having taken most of the day and the sun was still burning bright as he ducked his head and picked a direction.

He had let Tony’s words get to him, like he’d said he wouldn’t, but oh, that’d hurt.

 _‘You shouldn’t have started it.’_ He thought as he ran down the sidewalk, dodging people and hoping no one recognized him. Thank goodness he’d changed out of his suit, though the thing had nearly been burned off him. _‘You didn’t do anything wrong. You could’ve been seriously injured.’_ But it had been an accident. And it was like he wouldn’t heal anyways.

By the time Steve looked up to see where he had run to, he was passing through an older neighborhood full of rundown and empty houses that had been cleared out when the Chitauri had invaded. His phone was steadily vibrating in his pocket. Three missed calls from Clint, one from Natasha and Bruce, but none from Tony (Thor was visiting Asgard at this moment and had luckily missed all the puss-filled ant biting action). What did that mean?

“Captain America?” Someone called out from behind him and Steve whipped his head around in surprise. An older man, maybe between thirty five or forty stood smiling at him. His hair was thinning rapidly and his eyes looked tired. He wore a nice pair of slacks with and a long coat, his hands behind his back. “I thought that was you, Captain.” The gentleman greeted happily.

Steve opened his mouth to greet the man back when he pulled a gun out from behind his back. His face never stopped smiling as he pulled the trigger and a loud _pop_ echoed through the empty neighborhood.

His chest felt wet and a deep ache started up as he looked down to see he’d been shot, a stain of blood turning his shirt red as the sun faded and the street lights began to light up. The man came walking towards him, his smile taking a sharper edge as Steve was claimed by oblivion.

~

Steve jolted awake, his hands clinking in his new chains and the light illuminating the room making him queasy. The room was made out of gray brick and perfectly square, a single light bulb swung from the ceiling and four small cameras were positioned in each corner, all rotated to point at him. His arms were suspended above his head by thick manacles and he stood with his feet fixed together by chains; his shoes and shirt were gone, just leaving him in his worn sweatpants, his bare feet and back pressed against the cold stone. Admittedly, these were not the first things he noticed. What first came to his attention was the fact that his new prison didn’t have a door.

He didn’t panic, but it was a near thing. He calmly raised an eyebrow at the cameras across the room from him while inside his mind screamed at him. _Trapped! No way out!_ _God help me._

What was the point of sealing him in a room? He had figured this would be some ploy to wring information out of him, or find a way to duplicate the serum. Were the cameras to watch him steadily go insane? The sad thing about that thought was that Steve would go crazy in here, left alone to nothing but his memories. He’d been prepared for torture. Dreading it, but he had been prepared.

It was beginning to look like whoever had taken him didn’t plan to do any physical torture.

“I imagine, Captain, that by this time you’ve realized that there is, in fact, no door. There is no way out of your cell.” A man’s voice filled the stone room just as Steve noticed the speakers coming out of the walls below the rotating cameras. “And I suppose you’re wondering what I might have in store for you.”

There was a shuffling noise and then a faint _click_.

“Steve! Captain Rodgers, you answer me!” Steve stiffened in his binds, his slowly healing wounds stinging slightly in protest as Peggy’s voice called out to him. A recording, of course it was, it had to be- Peggy was dead. She’d died before they’d found him frozen in the ice, he’d checked, and they couldn’t have her.

“Stevie?” Bucky replied next and Steve closed his eyes. How had they even gotten his friend’s voice on tape?

There was another _click_ and the screaming started. Random screams, people’s voices he didn’t know filled with terror and pain. Some called out for loved ones while other sobbed and begged. Steve didn’t have a doubt in his mind that their screams were faked as their pitiful cries echoed around him. These screams were from real people being torn apart and recorded for some god awful reason.

There was a faint hiss and the air turned ripe as a child screamed for his mother to save him.

He was going to go insane here.

~

The screams never stopped, though he knew by now it’d been at least a week since they had started. His injuries, even the bullet wound had healed over and his stomach ached from hunger. His body would beg for food and water until week two and then the serum would take the edge away for a while. That seemed to be the only way to keep track of time in this damned oubliette.

Every couple of hours the man watching him would play Peggy and Bucky talking, or sometimes Howard, before switching back to the screams. Steve thought he was handling it pretty well, so far. Then he started hallucinating and knew the man would eventually get what he wanted.

Steve’s slow descent into madness.

And he would eventually get there; the dancing corpses surrounding him told him so. He couldn’t stop his final descent, though Peggy’s rotting face begged him to dance with her into it. So far, he only replied with a polite _not ready, Peg’s, sorry_. Steve had been plagued with flashbacks and dreams since he’d come out of his stasis, vivid dreams he’d waken up crying from because they’d been _so real_. They were nothing like these.

He noticed how foggy the room seemed and it made him think maybe he was being drugged, but it was only a passing thought. He didn’t think about it again as he went back to watching Bucky and Peggy waltzing around the room, the single bulb in the ceiling twinkling like a spotlight. He would catch glimpses as they twirled; the light would bounce off Peggy’s sweet red curls just right and he would forget about the maggots and decay. Or Bucky would give a handsome grin and he could see his friend beyond the crawling flesh alive with bugs and the stench of death.

The smell was the worst. By now there were so many dead beings surrounding him it was hard to breathe. His mother and Howard would converse in the corners while his old team members from the Howling Commandos played card. Bucky and Peggy were always dancing when they weren’t leaning close to him and asking him to join. It was in that moment when they were close to him that was the hallucinations took over his world and became real. The smell of putrefaction was terrible, yes, but it was the slight smell that lay beneath it that made him tear up.

The cloying scent of Peggy’s soft perfume would come through or Bucky’s familiar smell of faint gunpowder and cheap soap and he would **_want_**. He would _ache_ for them, deep in his chest as his hands twitched to reach out for them and hold his family close and he was both grateful and angered by the chains that held him instead.

~

“You’re looking so skinny, Stevie.” His mother cooed at him, stroking his greasy hair as her stench bundled around him. She smelled dead, but under that he could smell fresh laundry and lilies and he felt relaxed. “And you aren’t watching Peggy dance anymore. They look so handsome dancing together, Steve.”

“Can’t, Ma.” He said quietly, sadly. “My head’s too heavy.” He was disappointed. His friends danced so well for him, the symphony of screams coming composing a tragic and beautiful specter of death to waltz to. He wanted so badly to watch but he was so tired and dense while everyone swayed weightless through the room around him. He sagged completely in his chains now, ignoring the blood dripping down his arms and the pull of muscle in his shoulders.

It wouldn’t hurt for much longer, he could tell by his sunken in stomach and the way his body constantly trembled. Soon he would be dancing weightlessly with Peggy and Bucky to the masterpiece of his own expiration.

~

He was discussing the concept of the internet to Howard when the wall above him blasted open and took out Peggy and Bucky’s spotlight. His eyes shut and Steve shrunk back against his wall as rock rains down and he was blinded by light. Squinting, and trembling weakly, he reached out for his mother beside him as she faded, taking the rest of his companions with her.

 _No, no please! Come back! Don’t leave._ Dear Jesus, he hadn’t gotten to dance with Peggy yet.

“Steve!” Something bright glinted in front of him, shiny and red and gold. And alive. _Don’t look, if you don’t look, maybe you can still go with the others._ “Steve, please, just look at me, buddy!” Something yanked at his chains and he winced before his left hand came free to dangle useless at his naked side. A metal hand flashed by his face and went to his captured arm and he slammed his eyes shut.

One by one, he was freed from his wall until he fell forwards into a solid force, warm from the sun and gripping him gently. “Steve, fuck, just say something-Jarvis, are you sure he has a damn pulse?”

Tony, his mind supplied to him. That was definitely Tony’s dirty mouth. He hadn’t thought about Tony and the other Avengers since the dead begun to appear to him.

His eyes blinked open slowly and there was his old friend. His dark hair hung crazy onto his forehead and his brown eyes were dark and bruised. The eyes brightened considerably when Steve met his and the man sighed in relief. “Thank God, Steve. I’m going to get you out of here, okay? You just hang on and enjoy the ride, you’re fine now.”

He’d been fine before, he wanted to say but his mouth had dried out and he couldn’t seem to get enough air.

With a tenderness Steve didn’t know the man possessed, Tony swung his withered form up into his metal arms before closing his helmet and taking off into the sky. Dreaming, he had to be dreaming. Or he had died long ago.

~

For the first time in a long time he came awake to the smell of fresh air and antiseptic instead of decomposition. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. The sun came brightly through the blinds and the sound of people walking and talking by his room threw him off. Normal, they sounded so normal and there was no screaming. It made him want to start.

Tubes ran into his hands and his ribs knocked together as he tried weakly to sit up. He was shaking and struggling to sit up when his friends decided to grace him with their presence. There was a round of exclamations and Bruce reached his side first, and it was way too easy to press him back into the sheets.

“Your body is still trying to recuperate, Steve.” Bruce chastised in a sensible voice, face calm though his eyes gave him away. The eyes always give you away. “You’re extremely malnourished and dehydrated.”

“Not to mention the cocktail of drugs you were being fed nonstop.” Clint said and Natasha threw him a look.

Ah, the fog that had filled the room. So he had been right. _Or this is the real hallucination_. He connected eyes with Clint and gestured for him to keep going. _How long was I there?_

Clint gave Natasha a helpless look while the rest of them looked confused and concerned with Steve’s silence. “It was a strong hallucinogen mixed with a couple of other things, he fed it into the room to keep you drugged up and loopy while he watched…You were there for almost five weeks.”

Was that all? It had felt like a lot longer though he was surprised by how long the serum kept him alive without water. While the human body could go four to six weeks without food, the rounded estimate for how long it could go without water was ten days. Almost five weeks, that was three times as long as someone without the serum would’ve lasted. _If you were normal, you would’ve been dancing a long time ago. How disappointing._ A voice sneered at him.

 _Peggy wouldn’t have wanted me to give up saving people for a dance_. He thought back, though it wouldn’t stop his dreams.

“Steve? You good?” Tony asked, trying to sound nonchalant as Steve came back into himself. He replied with a shrug and his friends shared a dark look. “Hey, why don’t you tell me what hurts? Maybe get you some pain meds, get you settled up with the good shit? The faster you feel better, the faster they’ll let you out of this place.”

Steve knew what would make them happy. But his patience had worn thin and he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t show these beings so different from him what demons lurked and twirled tantalizingly for him out of the corners of his eyes. How could he talk to his friends when he wasn’t sure still if they were real or not? The dead had become familiar, had been safe and unjudging in his haven of stone and chains.

So he just gave another shrug and gave Tony an apologetic look.

~

Steve had been staring out the window thinking of creatures from another time when a spiral notebook and a pencil landed in his lap, startling him. He gave Tony a curious look as the man dragged a hospital chair up to the bed and plopped down in it.

“You don’t have to talk, just write.” Tony said; face indifferent like he didn’t care about the inconvenience. “You’ll talk when you’re ready, I’m sure.”

 ** _Thank you._** He wrote and his hand shook slightly as he focused on gripping the pencil.

Tony gave a nod and his mouth wrinkled. He bit at the edge of his mouth and looked away nervously before looking back at Steve. “I wanted to…Uh, well, I wanted to apologize. For what I said before you were taken.” He looked pained, his hands clenching from their place on top of his thighs.

Steve felt a moment of confusion before the words came back to him _._ _“Oh! I’m sorry, Rodgers! I wasn’t aware that you had any friends left alive!”_ He gave a small smile at the irony, his memories painted with screaming and happy, and moldy faces.

 ** _It’s okay. It was a long time ago and you were right anyways._** Tony made a sour face after he read what was on the paper and shook his head fiercely.

“The hell I was, Steve! Shit, I was being an idiot and you took off and got yourself fucking taken by some whack job!” He growled, running his hands roughly through his hair and tugging at the ends. “Jesus, _I’m sorry_ , that was my fault and I was so wrong!” He stood and leaned close to the bed, his calloused hand grabbing Steve’s arm as he starred into the blue eyes sincerely. “I didn’t mean to say it, Steve, I promise. I shouldn’t have brought up your past and threw it in your face and I shouldn’t have said you didn’t have any friends alive. You do, all of us are your friends. Holy shit, you I thought Natasha was going to lop my head off after you ran out, they all looked about ready to murder me. You’re their friend. You’re my friend, Steve.” The sides of his tan face crinkled as he smiled slightly. “Hell, you’re my best friend. Bruce doesn’t count, he’s my Science Bro and that’s different.”

This was a lot to take in. The grip on his arm was tight and he could already feel the blood vessels beneath his skin burst to form finger shaped bruises. It was the first time he’d felt someone’s touch, _really felt it_. The doctors had poked and prodded and Bruce had taken his pulse and patted his chest. Steve hadn’t felt it. It was like he’d been numb as everyone fluttered around him and he couldn’t tell what was real anymore. In his cell his mother had sat for days just stroking his hair and he could _almost_ feel it, and it’d been lovely. But in the end it’d left him wanting more than ghosting fingers; aching for a touch that would drag him back.

 

Tony was looking imploring at him when he drifted back, just waiting patiently for Steve’s reply. Ah, he’d always appreciated patience.

 ** _I forgive you. I don’t blame you either. I blame the man who stuck me there. I know you didn’t mean to say those things and you are my best friend, too._** In the corner by the door Bucky starred back accusingly.

 _It’s in your head; Bucky will understand you need more than the memory of a friend’s touch._ It would be okay. The man had succeeded in his goal but Steve would eventually heal the maw in his brain where the unpleasant pictures poured out into the real world. He could heal, he could feel Tony’s touch on his arm and that was a step in the right direction.

_So why aren’t you talking, yet?_

He wasn’t ready, yet. Not yet. When you begin to feel safer with the dead than the living, it’s hard to come back. Besides, it was easier if everyone didn’t know how sick his mind felt until he was further on the mend.

 ** _What happened to the man?_** Tony’s face fell slightly and he looked off to the side again and Steve had his answer. **_He got away._** Tony nodded slowly, and his mouth thinned in anger. ** _Do we know what he wanted with me?_**

The man beside him snarled in disgust and nodded again. “He wanted to…He was Peggy’s first husband.” Steve stiffened in surprise under Tony’s hand. “They weren’t married for long. She divorced him because she was…still in love with you and he didn’t understand. Her second and last husband understood well enough and loved her still. Walter Hammond, the man who took you, decided being mad at you was better than blaming Peggy and decided you weren’t grieving enough. So he kidnapped you and made it his goal to drive you mad with grief or some terribly shitty thing like that.”

Hammond thought he hadn’t grieved enough? Steve had grieved for Peggy every second of every day since he had woken up. They’d never had their chance and he mourned and longed and _what if-ed_ and probably always would. What gave someone the right to say it wasn’t enough?

~

Steve was out of the hospital and resting comfortably in the Tower with the rest of the team.

The second he’d been released, Tony had directed him to a limo and taken him back to the Tower where his things had already been moved to his room. Tony, oblivious to the fact that the space he had now was more than Steve had ever owned, told him that until the S.H.I.E.L.D physiatrist cleared him he would have to stay on Tony’s floor. And _really_ , what would he do with a whole floor? The bedroom he was given was bigger than the apartment S.H.I.E.L.D had set him up with.  

Steve spent most of his time sketching and listening to his team bicker and tease around him. Apparently Tony’s floor of the Tower was where everyone hung out and ate diner before returning their own floors to go to bed. It was nice, they never pressured him to join in the conversation and occasionally he would draw them smiling and arguing with each other instead of his terrible nightmares. Progress.

The physiatrist wouldn’t think he’d made any until he started talking again.

“You hungry, Cap?” Clint asked, slipping out from the vent behind Steve’s chair where he’d christened his sketching area. There was a pregnant pause and Steve winced knowing it was too late to cover up the dark picture he’d been sketching. It was a sketch of Peggy and Steve dancing together in the square, stone room. Peggy was falling apart, her eyes and shining curls the only thing untouched by time while her usually pressed military uniform wear hung off her in dirty tears. Steve’s own corpse held her close in skeletal arms, his eyes closed while the skin draped along his cheeks and stretch along his ribs tightly like his bones were close to ripping through. The light bulb in the ceiling highlighted them while their crowd of apparitions grinned from the sidelines. Chained against the wall was Steve’s molting body.

Dear lord, there was no way to explain this.

Clint cleared his throat and clapped Steve on the shoulder warmly. “C’mon, man. Bruce made spaghetti and meat balls.” And that was all.

Steve blinked in surprise. Slowly closing his sketch pad, he picked up his notebook and pencil in case he needed them during diner and carried them both to his seat in the kitchen. Everyone was already gathered in their regular spots while Bruce placed heaping plates of noodles, sauce, and gigantic meat balls in front of them. When he sat down he set his stuff off to the side and pulled his plate closer, stomach growling. He’d finally gotten his appetite back and had been steadily putting weight back on though he still wasn’t one hundred percent.

Clint held out a cup of freshly cut parmesan cheese and gave him a reassuring smile. Steve smiled back and took it.

~

Steve came awake screaming and pawing at his eyes, trying to get the maggots out before they crawled into his brain. He was still scratching and whining faintly when Tony burst into the room and snatched his hands away from his face.

“Jarvis! Lights, now!” The lights burned and Steve’s eyes watered and streamed. Tony let out a string of curses before jumping up and tugging on his wrists. “Up, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

The bathroom light was even brighter and Steve winced as the skin on his eye lids stung when he squeezed them shut. Tony sat him down on the toilet seat lid and started digging for stuff in the cabinets. Blinking around his tears, he looked down at his finger nails and saw fresh blood marking the digits with bright red.  

Huh. Tony popped up, kneeling in front of him with a wet washcloth and wiping at the blood around his eyes. “Close your eyes.” He commanded in a hard voice and Steve obeyed. The warm cloth was pressed on the cuts and he winced before melting into it. “Jesus, Steve, you almost gouged your fucking eyes out.” Tony growled in a low voice.

Steve was glad he wasn’t talking; he wasn’t sure how to explain trying to dig maggots out of his eyes sockets.

“What the hell did you see when you were on that shit?” This he asked in a quiet voice, not expecting an answer but needing to talk. “I’ll kill him if I find him. He deserves nothing better for making Captain fucking America wake up screaming and tearing at himself.”

If he had his notebook Steve would tell him no one deserved to die, even if a tiny wicked part of him wanted the man dead himself. Instead he just shook his head slowly so he wouldn’t dislodge the cloth and Tony’s hand.

Tony huffed out a harsh laugh and removed the rag. “Of course. Hammond almost kills you and you still stick to your morals.” Calloused fingers gripped the sides of his face in a careful hold and tilted his face towards the light to examine the marring. “At least you didn’t fucking blind yourself.”

Yes, that was a plus. If he couldn’t see he would surely slip back into his misconceptions and probably wouldn’t come out of them again.

“Still, we should get you to Bruce.” Steve shook his head fiercely, he was not ready to see his team’s faces when they realized how stupidly broken his head was. He was working on it. “They’re going to see them in the morning anyways, you know.”

He nodded. He would be prepared in the morning for those pitying looks, _poor Steve was so scared he maimed himself_ , but right now it was too raw. Bad enough Tony knew how ruined he was; bad enough he’d heard the screams. And Clint had seen the picture. Steve really hoped he wouldn’t decide when he saw his eyes in the morning that he was unstable. _Please, don’t think me unstable, I’m trying, I promise._

“Well.” Tony sighed and pulled out a tube of Neosporin. “I’ll put this on there and it can wait until morning. They don’t look bad, but I’d rather Bruce look at them. Dammit man, I’m a technological genius, not a doctor!” He said the last sentence in a raised voice and waggled his eyebrows at Steve.

 _Sorry, Tony, don’t know what you’re quoting_. He smiled and shrugged, cautiously reaching out to give his friend a pat on the shoulder when Tony heaved a put-upon sigh and threw his hands heavenward.  

“Alright, Capsicle, let’s get you back to bed.” Steve allowed Tony to lead him to out of the bathroom and back to his bed, the sheet tangled and messy from where he’d been tossing. Tony silently helped him straighten his blankets out and then held them open for him to crawl under.

Tucked back under his blankets, Steve watched with a raised eyebrow as Tony snagged a chair from his small desk in the corner and dragged it close to the bed. “I thought I’d just get some work done in here.” The man replied without even looking at him and pulled his phone out of his Starkpad out of his hoodie before switching it on and turning the screen light down. “And, yes, you are going back to sleep. You need it. I’ll wake you up if you look like you’re about to go Wolverine again.”

He had been planning on just laying here until an acceptable time to rise. It was nearing two now and he wasn’t too keen on having another nightmare.

“Steve.” Tony waited until he looked at him before giving him a sincere look. “I promise I’ll wake you before it gets bad.”

Steve starred at him for a long minute, taking in his own exhaustion and the determined look before nodding and closing his aching eyes. He fell asleep to the sound of Tony’s soft breathing and the quiet tapping of his fingers on the pad’s screen.

~

He didn’t have another nightmare before morning. He came awake slowly and with a soft smile to greet Tony who was still puttering with his tech. And that was another check under ‘Progress’ for him. They separated to take showers and get dressed and Steve met up with him and the rest of the team in the kitchen, the smell of pancakes and bacon filling the whole floor.

“Damn.” Clint whistled when he caught sight of Steve. “Must’ve been one hell of a nightmare.” Steve felt his jaw tighten and his face grow hot. He’d seen the scratches in the mirror when he had gotten out of the shower and they were not pretty. They looked angry and puffy, going mostly under his eyes while some had gotten close and scored over his lids. Natasha threw a sharp elbow into Clint’s gut and he choked on the bite of food he’d had just taken. “Gah-not, don’t feel bad, Cap! We all get those, I mean; Nat and I are assassins and nightmares just kind of come with the job description!”

Natasha gave a low sigh and just gave Steve a small smile before slapping the side of Clint’s head and continued eating, ignoring her partner’s indignant shout. Steve smiled slightly and made his way to where his mountain of food sat. Bruce came over to his side as soon as he was seated and begun examining the cuts with a concerned gaze.

“Well, they should be fine. At your rate, they’ll be healed by nightfall.” Bruce murmured, the pad of his thumb running over one of the deeper cuts across the delicate skin over his eyeball. He paused for a second before moving back towards his seat.

They were thinking it, he knew they were. The thought that he might hurt himself worse, or maybe cause pain to someone else was running through all their minds. And he begged inside that they would be wrong. He wanted to prove them wrong. Steve Rodgers was strong, he could do this.

And if it took a while before he was fine again, hey, that was okay, too. Because Steve Rodgers was also a patient man.

 


End file.
